why should i hold fast...
when there is nothing to hold on to?

the windows are eyes inside,
for now i have closed the curtians
i am now to hide.

when they are open again
will i be the same
and repeat the same to friends?

so as i close my eyes
its a temporary goodbye
but will others realize
that i am going through a trying times
in my life?

... ah,
the calm before the storm
unkept, im torn...
a beacon of light guides
ive followed in fright
have i changed my mind?
or havent i time by time?

Bleary eyes, blink.
Foggy mind, reels.

Getting vertical,
Push curtians aside.

Clouds like ghosts
Obstruct
Any futile hope of a foreign
Sun.

No on will walk in the
Rain.
No one will marvel at the
Clouds.

But one...

Tousled hair, shake.
Bare feet, steal.

Relish
In the dull light of the
Day.

wind
blows,
curtians
fluttered,
flapped.

truth,
fiction
muttered,

the breeze
slacked.

rain
falls,
panes
close.

Soft
rhythmic
in
art
iculate
riddles,

droplets
stream,

tapped
memory
flows.

Con
den
sa
tion

dampens
sill,

time
drifts,

I
remain
still.

grey
grey
gazing,

hyp
not
ical.


rain
rain,

go­
away

come
again

some
other
day.

her hair is dark.
rays of golden light shine throw white curtians onto it as she sleeps in the morning.

her eyes are golden
stars dance in them everytime she smiles.

she walks through moonlit gardens with shallow ponds,
and through firey tunnels where her demons hide.

she is beautful
but not weak

she is strong, and powerful

take you very away from me
when there are women
dancing in the curtians
and there are eyes..
everywhere looking into you.
to pull you from
who you are.

later i am today

the darkened room

resonates still with

all the goings of the night

things come backwords

and

while i felt all was well

perhaps it was not

news startles

we shared it at the meeting

i find i am a small part of

the worrying

yet what can we do?

some were busy, then

they were stopped so

i may not see them

drew the curtians early last eve

while waiting and through the *****

left saw one golden tree

autumn cameo

each little thing

while some things break

Here is a little short story
Of a mans accusatory
tendency toward one other
In a manner rather pother

We will call the first one "Jay"
And call second one "Aye"
Jay was starting to become certain
Aye hid secrets behind closed curtians

Jay says Aye had slept with his girl
Aye told Jay please don't make me earl
This was not truth Jay was confused
Just a fantasy drugs had induced

For a few long months they were head to head
Aye wakes to a text in the middle of the night
Saying I wish you were dead
Reads and gets mad, now he is ready to fight

Aye was upset and jumped in his car
Started towards Jay's house but he didn't get far
Fell asleep at the wheel and he overcorrected
Hits a tree, flipped nine times before being ejected

No seatbelt had been worn
it was the perfect storm
Going eighty in a forty
Should have turned him in to mincemeat

Ruptured discs
broken ribs
Collapsed lungs
But still lived

Jay had felt no remorse
Still suspicious of course
Aye knew the crash was his own fault
He should've put anger to a halt

Now Aye tries only to be kind
And keep Jay's problem his in mind
Hoping one day it'll be again informal
But it has continued to be abnormal

That was a year ago and sad to say
This story is true by the way
Jay still makes false claims about Aye til this day
Here's the worst part I'm Aye, my Uncle is Jay

-Ajm

there was no fanfare,
no procession, no proclamation,
as we hit the button, no exclaimation

with the change as if no one
noticed, and if i am right, they
probably didn’t until later

didn’t see as we drove the valley,
didn’t protest, or speak in tongues,
did not see the little things



we bought winter food



it came late early

we are in transition



drew the curtians last eve

while waiting and through the *****

left saw one golden tree

autumn cameo



each little thing

while some things break